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The sight of her father sitting on the diving board swinging his legs back and forth drew Christine's attention. Curious, she swam over to where he was sitting and grabbed his right leg. "Dad . . . why do you have a scar on your leg. I've never noticed this one before. I know why you have a scar on your knee and your chest and your stomach because I've seen them and Mom told me what happened, but why your leg?"

Looking down at the faint scar, Booth laughed and shook his head. "Your mother shot me."

Shocked, fifteen year old Christine's eyes widened and turned to stare at her mother. "Mom . . . Mom why did you shoot Dad? What did he do? Does Hank know about this? Wait until he gets back from Aunt Angela's house and I tell him."

Unable to help himself, Booth laughed and turned his gaze upon his wife. "Hank doesn't know Christine . . . Your Mom and me were on a case and she had this big ass . . . um, this big gun and she shot me with it because she wanted to shoot off a lock on a door."

Her glaring eyes aimed at her husband, Brennan leaned forward on the chaise lounge. "I did not shoot your father. When I shot at the lock the bullet ricocheted and hit him in the leg . . . grazed his leg. I can't be held accountable for ricochets."

Irritated that she still wouldn't admit that she had been in the wrong, Booth stood up and hopped down onto the cement walkway encircling the pool. "Ha, don't even go there. The gun was in your possession, you fired it ipso facto columbo oreo you are responsible for shooting me. You shot me. Admit it."

"Where did you hear that phrase?" Staring in wonder at her husband, Brennan stood up and cross her arms against her breasts. "Ipso facto columbo oero . . . where did you hear that?"

Puzzled, Booth moved closer to where Brennan was standing and placed a hand on her upper arm. "It's something I've heard you say in your sleep . . . are you alright? It's just made up isn't it? It sure isn't real Latin . . ."

Lowering her arms, Brennan glanced at her daughter who was holding onto the diving board and watching them. Not sure whether she should say anything in front of her child, Brennan turned her gaze back towards Booth. "Someone told me that a long time ago when I was feeling sad and . . . . a little lost. He was trying to be amusing."

Not sure why her demeanor had changed to sadness, Booth pulled her into his embrace and held her. "I'm sorry, Bones. If that brings back some bad times for you . . . I didn't mean to make you sad. I won't say it again."

Her arms around his chest, Brennan smiled though it was a sad smile and leaned her face against his shoulder. "No . . . it's alright. It's in the past and it was at a time when I thought I would always be alone . . . I'm fine."

"You'll never be alone, Bones." His eyes on Christine, he smiled as he saw her leave the pool and run towards them. As the teenager threw herself at Brennan, Booth laughed. "Not when we have our own personal munchkins to make us happy."

"Don't Cry Mom." Not sure what was going on, Christine hugged her mother. "I love you Mom."

Feeling a little emotional, Brennan placed her arms around her daughter's shoulders. "I'm not crying Christine. I was just thinking about something sad. I'm alright now."

Relieved that her mother wasn't really crying, Christine kissed her cheek. "Don't think about sad things Mom. Think about happy things."

"Now why didn't I think about that as a solution?" Kissing her child, Brennan smiled at Booth. "I didn't shoot you Booth. It was an accident."

Resigned to the fact that she was never going to admit her part in that little fiasco, Booth laughed. "You keep telling yourself that Bones. I've got the facts on my side and you don't."

"Whatever Booth . . . whatever."

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